


life is like a damn Richard Siken poem

by TurntechLoveThis (angelcult)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dave’s Bro Tries To Be Better, Extended Metaphors, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Mind Control, Post-Sburb (Homestuck), Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/TurntechLoveThis
Summary: He’s sitting across from the man who took so much from him, he’s listening to him apologize and the only thing he can think of is a few lines of Richard Siken poetry:“Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. / I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.”
Kudos: 25





	life is like a damn Richard Siken poem

Dave finds it hard to not blame Bro for everything he took from him, to not push him to his knees and scream at him and tell him right to his face that “ _ you ruined me, you ruined me, I fucking hate you, it’s all your fucking fault”  _ but sometimes, he can see the regret.

Bro is much more expressive when he isn’t being mind controlled by a puppet, of all things.

There’s some irony there. 

  
  


Sometimes, he just stares at Dave, with this  _ look  _ in his eyes, like he’s missing something, and as much as Dave hates to consider it, he sort of did. 

  
  


“How old was I when you last saw me, when you  _ really  _ saw me, not just through Cal.” 

Bro paused in what he was doing, cooking (something that Dave didn’t know he was capable of) and tilted his head a little. 

“I don’t know. You didn’t look very old. Six, maybe?”

He had a very soft voice, in fact, everything about Bro that had seemed one way when under Cal’s control was really the other. 

He  _ made  _ himself smaller, and not just in Dave’s presence, he’d done it around John, hell, he’d done it around  _ Rose  _ and she was barely gracing five feet tall.

“Six?” Dave didn’t really remember being six, but he did remember Bro being a little different at some point in his life, along the blurry spectrum of his memories. 

When Dave was six, Bro was  _ gentle,  _ in a way that he was never like afterwards.

“What else do you remember?”

Dave wondered if retelling those memories would hurt, and some sadistic and hurt part of himself really hoped that it did. 

He wanted Bro to hurt, and that scares him something serious. 

Bro started stirring whatever was in the pot again, it smelled like stew, and didn’t speak for a few moments, shoulders tense before he finally started to speak. 

“You were.. So happy to see me. I know Cal said I had to work a lot, I know that I worked and I worked and I didn’t see you often but when I did, you-“ He flipped the switch to turn off the stovetop and gripped the counter, leaning forward a little.

“You don’t look at me like that anymore.” 

Dave felt uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat before looking away from Bro, and the kitchen fell into a tense silence as Bro finished up their meal for the evening. 

  
  


Dave thinks that sixteen year olds can be real assholes, and he should know, he was one. He also knew that he was being quite the asshole to Bro, who would take it and not say a word. 

He probably thinks he deserves it, and that cruel little voice in the back of Dave’s head says that he does, that even if he can’t remember and he’s basically a completely different person without Cal controlling his actions, he thinks that Bro deserves it.

Dave’s got a lot of anger in him, barely beneath the surface, he’s full of fire and hate and sadness so deep and wounded that he can’t even muster up the guilt over some of the spiteful things he does.

He was hurt, why shouldn’t Bro hurt too?

And the rational part of his brain knew that Bro was hurting, in a way that was different from Dave’s hurt, but it was  _ pain  _ regardless. 

Bro had trusted Cal, hell, Dave’s pretty sure that Cal  _ raised  _ Bro, in some way that a human parent or guardian could not. 

Maybe their pain was more similar than Dave wanted to analyze. 

  
  


Dave discovered early on that Bro was probably better suited to be a parent than he would have ever guessed. 

He also discovered that Bro probably still saw him how he remembered him, as a six year old, happy to see him after a long day at work. 

He didn’t coddle Dave, but he did have a slight tendency to hover. It wasn’t always obvious, because of his shades, but he gradually began to wear them less and less, and his eyes were always sad, sometimes hurt. 

Dave has conflicting feelings about that, about how when there was hurt in his eyes, he’d be a little kinder, on top of his already exceedingly gentle and real personality. 

It was like he wasn’t his brother at all.

  
  


“Dave? Is John coming over tonight?”

Dave looked up from his computer and nodded, tense. Bro’s eyes were tracing around his room in a way that made Dave uncomfortable, it was like he’d never seen it before except that he  _ has.  _

“I’ll order pizza for you boys, and I’ll leave ya be for the evenin’.”

Dave nodded, unsure of what to say. Sometimes Bro reminded him of himself, the careful and nervous way he tended to hold himself. 

“Yeah?” Dave called when the other hadn’t moved and seemed to be just watching him, vibrant orange eyes too reminiscent of Dirk’s for Dave’s comfort.

He looked away. 

“Yeah, he should be over soon. Wind powers and all that.”

And maybe he wanted to escape the oppressing loneliness of an empty house. 

Dave knew he was lucky to get his Bro back, even if sometimes looking at him and that scar on his neck hurt more than it helped. 

  
  
  


John looked different after everything, still lovable and goofy, but tired. 

Tired like he wanted to sleep forever and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. His eyes were red a lot, like he was crying, like he was finally given the chance to really mourn all that he’d lost. 

  
  


“Hey, bro.” Dave pulled John into a hug, he’d ditched the toxic masculinity somewhere with one of his deaths. 

It felt good to be held like he mattered, because that’s how John held him. 

It made the ache in his chest a little easier. 

Love and all that. 

John smiled a little, looking behind Dave and Dave wanted to be selfish and mean, he wanted to yank John back but he didn’t, just stepped aside so that he could greet Bro.

“Hey, Bro.”

John hadn’t liked him when they first met, he’d known enough about Dave’s life growing up to have a pretty solid reason not to, but then the man he saw didn’t match the picture he’d made in his mind. 

It was hard for John to be at ease, he’d thought it was some sort of scheme to make Dave out to be a liar (and he’d known he wasn’t lying, he’d seen Dave’s mind, he  _ knows  _ he wasn’t lying) but then Dave finally explained.

And it made sense. 

“Hey, John.” Bro was a little tense but allowed John to hug him.

_ “Cal didn’t like it when I touched other people,”  _ Bro had explained to Dave once, over a beer.  _ “Said it would make me weak.”  _

And in turn, he never touched Dave. 

Dave knew he was touch-starved, so much that even hugging pillows and weighted blankets wasn’t remotely enough to emulate the warmth and solidity of another person.

John was softly talking to Bro, in that  _ tone,  _ one that he clearly adopted from his father. It was soothing, one that he very rarely used on Dave and it made jealousy nip and bite at his heart.

Bro was the  _ bad guy  _ here, he was the one who stole from Dave, first his childhood and now John? 

Was nothing his own?

“Hey, Dave, come on! I want to show you these really cool knitted sweaters Rose sent for Casey..” 

Dave smiled and followed John to his room, ignoring the way Bro’s eyes tracked them. 

  
  


When the bedroom door shut, Dave turned towards John and all the tension melted out of him now that he no longer had to watch John comfort his brother. 

“How are you doing, man?”

John gave him a confused smile and tilted his head to the side, tired blue eyes raking over Dave’s face.

“What are you talking about?”

Dave sighed and pulled his shades off, forcing John to meet his eyes by staring him down, and it hurt so much more than dying to see John’s eyes glaze over with tears as he minutely shook his head.

“I’m not okay, Dave. The house-the house is  _ empty  _ and I’m-I’m  _ alone all the time,  _ my dad is  **gone** and I’m-what? I’m supposed to be happy the world didn’t end? I lost  _ everything.” _

John fluctuated between anger and sadness, but Dave didn’t hesitate to pull him close and let him melt into his arms. 

John’s ranting devolved into wordless sobbing, gripping Dave’s shirt, briefly uncaring about the tear stains he’d leave. 

“You aren’t alone, you aren’t alone, I’ve got you, I have you, John, shhh..” 

Sometimes Dave thinks John grew up a little faster than all of them, maybe that was the Game trying to prepare him for all that he’d lose, but little did that simulation know, John wasn’t made for that.

He wasn’t made for blood and war and death.. He was made for hugs, and cake, he was made for love. 

He wasn’t like Dave, who grew up with anger in his veins and blood running from his nose, he was made for war.

At least, he likes to pretend he was.

He doesn’t think he really has much of a purpose at all. 

“I miss him.” John whimpers and Dave nods, rocking them from side to side slightly.

“I know.”

“I want him, I want my dad.” It was such a childish thing, to want one’s father in a moment of pain and tears, but in some cruel twist of fate, only a father that was no longer there could soothe John’s ache.

“I didn’t even tell him I loved him that day, it was my birthday and he made a cake and-and-and he was-he was so  **proud** of me and I didn’t tell him I loved him, Dave, I just-I just got  _ mad  _ because I fucking  **hate** **_cake and I hate it even more now that he’s_ ** _ …” _

John pulled away from Dave and wiped at his face, just in time for a knock to sound from the bedroom door.

He still looked a mess, his glasses were slightly fogged up, his face was still red and his eyes were still puffy.

He looked like a wreck but he just shrugged and motioned for Dave to open the door.

“Pizza’s here, boys.” Bro told them, eyes scanning the room before he frowned softly when they landed on John.

“Y’all okay in here?”

John forced a smile and nodded, floating a little off the ground as if to say  _ “how can I not be okay when I can do this?”,  _ spinning a little.

Seeing worry in Bro’s eyes was so new and so foreign, even if it had been directed at Dave what felt like a thousand times already, the novelty would never fade. 

“Okay,” He didn’t push for an answer, but it was easy to see that he wanted to. “Food’s on the table, eat whenever y’all are ready.” 

He nodded to them and Dave nodded back before he left, closing the door behind himself.

“You should be kinder to him.” John starts, holding up a hand to stop Dave before he could speak.

“I’m not telling you to forgive him or to forget everything that happened but be a little kinder. He’s trying.”

Dave swallowed his angry response and nodded, burning up at the thought of being kind.

Not killing Bro the moment he saw him confused and wandering around the apartment was kindness enough, wasn’t it?

  
  
  


_ Dave felt like he’d just stepped through a time machine when he stepped into the apartment, thousands of years seemed like five minutes, because it was exactly how he’d left it. _

_ Smuppets were everywhere, both put together and not, swords strewn about and shurikens stabbed into the walls. _

_ The one difference was the man standing there, holding a tattered puppet, a dazed look in his orange eyes as he looked around the room.  _

_ When their eyes met, Dave expected anger, he expected to be dragged to the roof, but instead, he started crying. _

_ “Dave? Fuck, I saw all the blood and I thought you were dead-“ He dropped the tattered puppet, stepping on it to get closer to Dave, teary eyes searching his face.  _

_ Dave looked older, rougher, he’s got a scar that went through his eyebrow and another across his cheek, they looked deep.  _

_ He reached out to touch him and Dave flinched, he thought he was over it, he thought he was strong _ enough  _ to not be scared of his Bro’s touch anymore but clearly, even after everything, he was wrong. _

_ Bro’s hand retreated, and then he said something Dave hated. _

_ “I’m sorry.”  _

  
  


Stuffing himself with pizza while his best friend and crush sat across from him at his dining room table was a normality that Dave never thought he’d ever experience.

“You stayin’ the night?” Dave asked after a sip of apple juice, watching John as he nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah. It’s better than staying in an empty house.”

“Alright, you can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” Dave stated, pausing when John smiled at him.

“What?”

“After this long and everything we’ve been through, I think we can just share the bed, Dave, besides.. I think we could both use the comfort.”

Dave smiled, he pushed down the longing in his heart, he pushed aside thoughts of John and Karkat, he just  _ smiled. _

“Yeah, you’re right.. We really could.”

John smiled in that blissfully ignorant way that Dave learned to associate with John.

“Okay. Thanks.”

They fell into silence, quietly eating and drinking before John spoke up again.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?” Dave sat his drink aside and focused on his friend.

“The Game, dying,  _ Dirk,  _ do you.. Ever think about life before? It wasn’t perfect, but, it wasn’t..” John stopped and fell quiet, blinking back tears.

“You know?”

“Yeah.” He could still remember the way Dirk smiled at him as he held the noose in his hands, the way he’d whispered and said  _ “I never break, I only splinter.. I’ll be back.”  _

Looking at the subtle traces of him that he saw in Bro, he found that maybe.. He was right.

“I know.”

  
  
  


The TV was on and Dave didn’t know why he was awake after he’d been sleeping so comfortably next to John, he was so warm.

Bro was laying on the futon, staring blankly at the TV as he held a familiar pair of shades in his hand.

“Did you finish AR?”

“Hal.”

“What?”

“His name’s Hal. Put them on, he’s probably been listening to us.”

Bro gave him an odd look, but after a few seconds, he put them on and the little red lights flickered on.

Dave watched Bro’s eyebrows furrow, and the way his lips turned down for a moment before he spoke aloud.

“No one calls me that anymore.. No.. Dave?”

Bro was quiet before he finally took the shades off and looked back at Dave.

“I never finished.. Him.. because he was going to be defective.”

“Hal’s defective?”

“He’s manipulative, he wasn’t supposed to be that way. He was supposed to  _ help.. _ ”

Bro just shook his head and looked at Dave, setting Hal aside.

“He was too much like me.”

Dave nodded, he understood now why Dirk seemed so unnerved by Hal at times, he assumed it was just because they were so much like each other, in so many different ways.

“You don’t seem very manipulative, now.. At the very least.”

Bro smiled, but in the glow of the TV, Dave could see the bitterness and the self-loathing in it.

“We both know that things have changed in ways we don’t want. I can’t—“ Bro placed his hand over his neck, tracing the scar there as he forced himself to speak.

“I can’t die, Dave, and don’t give me that look, I  _ know  _ you thought about killing me.. I don’t blame you.”

“How do you know you can’t die?”

“I would always protect you, I would never hurt you- not anymore than I already have and if  _ I  _ am the one who’s hurting you and-and I’m the one who you need to be protected from.. Then I’ll do what I can to follow that through. Anything.”

Dave thinks the only difference between Dirk and Bro in that moment is age, because are those not the same words that Dirk told him? That he’d do whatever was in his power to keep him safe?

“You don’t break.”

“What?”

“You don’t break,” Dave started hesitantly, looking away. “You only splinter.”

  
  
  


Breakfast was a quiet and hesitant affair. John was windswept in the best way, Bro was dejected in the worst way, Dave was remembering 

All the bad things. 

The kitchen was never for eating, it was a battleground, the bathroom was the infirmary and his bedroom was a shelter from bombs that would rain down during the night, he was at war every day of his life and now the war has ended, suddenly, like a car crash. 

He’s killed thousands, he’s died a million times, his brother held the gun, he held the knife, the sword and the rope, he would orchestrate Dave’s downfall.

When Dave squinted, he would see the strings controlling his actions, he knew his brother was just a puppet.

He wondered if Bro ever saw it.

Dave hates apple juice as much as he loves it.

Sweet, bitter, thick on his tongue and too watered down, everything and nothing, all at once.

So, breakfast was quiet.

In the worst way.

  
  


_ When his name was Dirk and not Bro, he had a puppet. He was the only thing he’d ever really owned, his name was Cal and he was Dirk’s savior.  _

_ Saviors though, they are often like gods, and sometimes… Gods demand sacrifices.  _

_ When his name was Bro and not Dirk, he had a brother (and a son and a charge and a responsibility and a soldier), and Cal had eyes for him. _

_ He stole the strings from Bro’s hands, he stole his son and his brother and his responsibility and the  _ only  _ thing that mattered, and he turned him into a killer. _

There is blood on Dave’s hands, blood that glows like it’s under a blacklight on Dave’s fingers. 

He can’t wash it off, it’s his blood, his own blood from his corpses that are strewn across space-time. 

Bro knows what it’s like, to kill yourself over and over and not die.

It’s not something he thinks should be bonded over. 

  
  


“Dave,” Bro watched him flinch, watched the way his shoulders hunched in and Bro could only think  _ “I did that, I broke him.”  _

“What’s up?” False bravado, praying Bro didn’t see that moment of weakness, yes, he knew that routine well.

He wondered how similar he and ‘Dirk’ were. Did Dirk have the failed foster homes too? The black eyes, the bloody noses, he just..  _ wondered. _

“Did you.. Meet your mom when you played that game?”

“My mom?” Like he didn’t consider that he had a mother, and maybe, just maybe.. It never occurred to him that there was more than just himself and his Bro.

“Yeah, she was a.. Hell of a woman. Beautiful, she looked just like your.. Sister.”

Dave hummed and sort of shrugged.

“She loved Rose too much.”

“Too much?”

Dave’s lips turned down into a sneer, harsh and angry and he spoke before he could stop himself.

“She got all the love you couldn’t spare me.”

“Dave-“

“Rose thinks a loving mother was just the  _ worst  _ but  **you** , didn’t even spare me a moment-“

“Dave, you know that wasn’t me-“

He’s getting hysterical, there are tears coming from behind his shades, his cheeks are red, Bro  _ broke him.  _

“I don’t care! I don’t care! You-You didn’t love me enough to fight it and-and- did you know that in Dirk’s timeline I’m just like  _ you, I am just like you I’m the worst Guardian, I would have killed that version of myself with my bare h-“ _

He’s expecting to get hit, but instead, he is pulled into a tight hug, and Bro hates touch, he never hugs him, but his hold is so warm, he’s squeezing him like he’s forgotten how to be gentle as he tries to comfort his brother. 

“I’m sorry,” His voice is breaking, why is he crying? “I never wanted it to be this way.”

Dave wonders how much Bro  _ wanted  _ when he was young and seventeen and his child came from a meteor instead of a hospital. 

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I  **_hate_ ** you, I hate you so much.”

Bro is clinging to him like he’s in pain, and maybe he is, but it doesn’t change what he says next.

“I love you.”

Dave wants him to stop talking.

“I have always loved you, I loved your mother, I love your sister, I  _ love you,  _ I loved you when I was dead and I love you now that I’m alive.”

Bro is crying, he is holding Dave like he means everything and he is crying.

“I don’t need you to love me back, I know what I’ve done, I  _ know  _ that I have hurt you, but Dave,” 

Orange eyes meet tinted shades, pain meets anger.

“I will never regret you.”

If Dave was a lesser man, he would have killed Bro when he saw him wandering around the apartment, dejected and missing memories.

He would have called it “mercy” and not “revenge”.

He would have said he was doing him a favor, like putting down a wounded animal, like burning down a forest and saying it would grow back better this time, but..

When faced with love, Dave is given a choice, and he has never made the right ones.

“I cried for you, when you died, because I was relieved. And then I cried because I was scared, and now I’m crying.. Because I can’t feel anything at all.”

Dave pushes Bro off of him, he curls in on himself and remembers that John is still in his room, he probably heard everything.

“I want to love you back, I want to love the good in you but I..” He smiles a little, bitter,  _ revenge. _

“I need time.”

And there is irony, in a god telling a mere mortal.. that they need time when it’s very whim is at his command.

It always comes down to irony. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll probably add a second part to this because of how open the ending is.


End file.
